


When He Needs Her

by ThatWildWolf



Series: When I Need You [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, As always the Doctor is fucked up, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, Romance, and Sarah has to take care of him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWildWolf/pseuds/ThatWildWolf
Summary: After losing Amy and Rory, the Doctor tries to forget. Sarah makes sure he doesn't. One-shot.





	When He Needs Her

He was drunk.

As he stumbled down the street, desperately trying to prevent the world from spinning, a thought somewhere deep inside of him told him that this was only going to get him into trouble, but he shut that rational part of his brain off. He just needed to kill the sorrow. And yes, he did try to drown it at the bottom of a bottle. It wasn't like he hadn't ever got drunk before and, after all, humans seemed to do so all the time, so there was nothing to be ashamed of. That was how he tried to reason with himself, at least.

He stopped to clutch his stomach as he felt a sudden urge to throw up. Quickly taking the turn right into some smaller alley, he pressed himself against the wall. His whole body was damp from sweat and he was shivering. Fantastic. Maybe he was even sick. Could he, potentially, catch a cold? Just how hot was it on that damned planet? Hell, he wasn't even sure what planet it was exactly.

He vomited all over himself.

Great, now he was in a total state of ultimate disarray.

"Oh, dear." The voice brought him from his moping to the harsh reality, which was him laying half-conscious in a pool of his vomit in a dirty alley somewhere.

_Please, don't stop here. Don't notice me. Just... walk past me and everything will be fine._

She didn't. Of course. As if the day couldn't get any worse.

It was someone he actually _knew_.

She stopped.

"Oh, God." She covered her mouth as soon as she saw the state he was in. "Doctor." He hated her for the way she could say just one word: with so much anger and accusation and disappointment at the same time. She was making him feel even worse than he already had been.

"Hello, Sarah Jane," he grumbled.

"Who did this to you?" She knelt down next to him. For a moment, his post-alcohol sluggish mind tried to understand what the question meant. Slowly, he joined the facts: he had no way of knowing how exactly he looked at the moment, but he was sure he was pretty beaten up. Hence her assumption that someone must have done something to him. But _who_...? That question was ridiculous.

"You're looking at him, far as I'm aware."

She made a face and for a moment he hoped she would actually walk away, but no. She brushed the wet strands of hair from his forehead. He had been guessing correctly when he thought he must have been completely covered in sweat, then.

"Why would you ever do that to yourself?" She dropped the grocery bags, completely focused on what had always been a superior task in her life: helping the Doctor.

He didn't want that help, he didn't _need_ that help. He took a sip from the bottle he was still holding and winced. He tasted vomit.

"Just leave me here," he muttered. "I'd rather be alone."

"And what is this?" She took the bottle from his hand in spite of his protests. She winced. " _Alcohol?_ Doctor, really-"

Sarah didn't know what to say, so she simply shook her head in disapproval. She realised this wasn't getting anywhere.

"TARDIS?"

He waved a hand about.

"Somewhere."

She sighed.

"Come on, then." She got up and offered him a hand.

"Seriously, just leave me." Sarah bit her lip; he wasn't joking.

She knew that she had to help him, but she had no idea how to approach him in this state, especially as he was undoubtedly very much _drunk_. Was that even safe for Time Lords? She had never seen him drink alcohol - definitely not the amount that would lead to the state he was currently in.

"Doctor, please." If being stern didn't work, she had to try begging him instead. No response. "Doctor?" She knelt down next to him again. Great, he was out now.

She couldn't leave him like that, could she?

Sarah decided that calling for a taxi would be the best course of action, as dragging him along all the way to Bannerman Road didn't really sound very appealing. She didn't doubt she would manage to do it if she had to: he was roughly the size of a teenager now - a rather slim teenager, to add up - and she had always found some incredible amounts of strength, both mental and physical, when the Doctor was in need. But no, it wouldn't be right. First of all, people would be staring. It's not like she had tons of privacy as it was - no, with neighbours like that, it seemed almost impossible - but dragging an unconscious and almost definitely drunk man into her house would make her the primary subject of gossip for the next few months.

The cab came rather quickly, which she was eternally grateful for. God knows how long the Doctor had been laying on the ground, and what effects would it have on his organism. No matter how strong he seemed, he was just one person and Sarah could see that he was already quite damaged by what he had done to himself on his own and he didn't need the help of the environment to bring harm to himself.

The driver frowned when she tried to pull the unconscious Time Lord inside the car.

"Drank too much?" He asked, wincing sympathetically. Sarah stopped to stare at him in shock. The way he said it made it so normal, so relatable... She simply couldn't connect the Doctor with anything ordinary.

"Yes..." She confirmed with some surprise. "That he did."

She quickly collected her shopping and got into the cab. The driver, thankfully, left her in peace once she told him the address, so she had a while to think all of this through.

She looked out the window, then at the Doctor. She had no idea what she was doing. She had acted on an impulse, sure, but now was the time to calm down and look at everything rationally. The Doctor needed help, that much was clear. But she was worried that the help he needed was a kind she couldn't give him. A psychiatrist's help, maybe?

What had happened? She buried her head in her hands, too aware of her helplessness in the situation. What could possibly have happened to make the Doctor so despaired to run away from reality? She hated how little she knew about his life. She didn't know what it was like now at all.

_I travel with Amy now. And Rory._ And that was all. He hadn't said anything more, she hadn't asked. It just hadn't seemed that important back then. Now, she felt that she should have.

She didn't know _anything_ about his life. About his friends or anything... Damn it, she didn't even think she knew his age. And he in turn had always known everything. He had always cared. Always had done his research. _That must be Clyde, and that will be Rani._.. She hadn't told him their names. She hadn't told him anything more than a brief mention of a fourteen-year-old son. The next time they met, he knew all about Luke. He _cared_. Damn it, and what did that make _her_? What was she doing? She didn't even know what had happened, except that it must have touched him personally.

"Bannerman Road 13?" She snapped back to reality and looked out the window. The car was indeed parked next to her home now.

"Yes..." She said absent-mindedly. "That's it."

She quickly paid for the service and did a pretty bad job of pulling the Doctor out of the cab. He groaned quietly as she put an arm around him in a vain attempt to get him to stand upright. He tried looking around, but she saw that he was still mostly out of it.

"If you don't want to cooperate, fine. Just don't make this harder."

She wasn't completely sure if he as much as understood her, but she knew for one that he was listening. That was a start. "Alright, door." He still wasn't able to stand on his own, but now was a bit more conscious and she could simply just keep him standing straight instead of actually dragging him. Sarah fumbled with her bag for a while until she found the keys and was finally able to unlock the door. They stumbled inside and she quickly shut the door behind them. The Doctor leaned on a wall, breathing heavily, and for a moment she feared he would pass out or throw up again. She kicked off her shoes, threw her coat onto a chair and put her arm around him in concern.

"Can you walk?"

The only response she received was an erratic shake of his head. Well, this was at least some form of communication. She carefully led him to the living room, aware that he needed being taken care of in many ways, mental and physical, and that what she _could_ focus on for now was either getting him some clean clothes or letting him get some sleep. His head fell on her shoulder. The second option it was, then.

She winced, probably for the first time ever thankful that Luke didn't live with her anymore. This would be more than hard to explain to her son.

"Okay, lie down on the couch." When he didn't oblige, she added a meaningful "Please."

That word seemed to work on him.

===oooOOO~OOOooo===

He had probably dosed off into sleep, because the next thing he knew, he was lying on the couch in nothing more than a dressing gown which was not even his own. _That takes me back_. Ugh. He felt a dull ache in his chest. Heart strained maybe? Or just tired with his lifestyle. He couldn't actually focus. Scratch that, as much as _thinking_ was hard - his head hurt unbelievably. His whole body felt stiff and alien to him and he couldn't help but wonder if that was his organism's reaction to the alcohol or the loss of his friends.

He groaned, trying to sit up.

"I don't think it's going to be that easy," Sarah Jane's voice seemed to appear out of nowhere. And taking that he was already feeling as though he was nowhere, it was coming from everywhere. "You're due to one hell of a hangover." His vision suddenly came into focus, but not as sharp as he would have liked. The whole image was still rather blurred. At least, he could see Sarah Jane now. She was scowling at him, but he could tell that she was not angry, just concerned. _Sarah._ Never angry, no matter how much of a fool he made of himself. "Have you any idea how much alcohol you've drunk? _Fourteen_ vodka shots... Doctor, that is-"

Whatever she had been intending to say- however she had intended to _scold_ him - because honestly, even after all those hundreds of years (he knew that it hadn't even been half a century for her, but it was sometimes hard to remember that, especially when your head is spinning like crazy and there's some suspicious ringing in your ears) she still felt as though she had to scold him and treat him like a child that needed being taken care of, even though he was over a thousand years old and she was nothing but a silly little human... He hated proving her right about it, but he _was_ the child she so easily mistook him for.

"They're gone, Sarah." He whispered. "They're gone."

He fell back onto the sofa, burying his head in his hands.

"They're gone."

She didn't know how to answer- or felt that she shouldn't. Either way, he was extremely grateful for the silence as he lay down, burying his feelings deep inside of himself.

"Doctor," he heard Sarah's soft voice close to his face. He opened his tightly shut eyes and stared at her. She was looking at him sadly. "It's alright to let go."

She grabbed his forearm sympathetically and that was when it all fell apart inside of him as he surrendered to the overpowering wave of emotions washing through him. He wasn't completely sure, but it's possible that he cried. He wasn't fully conscious at the moment, so he could only guess. There was one thing he was sure of, and it was Sarah Jane sitting next to him all the time, not trying to console him or cheer him up, not saying a word, just letting him take it all out.

He hadn't exposed himself to another person so much in a very long time, and he happily embraced the comfort it brought. He knew that he could break down in front of her and she wouldn't abandon him. That new emotion he was struggling to grasp was trust. Not just the usual friendly trust. He trusted her completely at the moment, and entrusted with the most damaged, most intimate part of himself - his heart. He could open it up in front if her. Show the way he was really feeling. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. Showing his pain to another person didn't make it a weakness. Not with Sarah Jane. Merely her presence by his side gave him the strength to face his feelings.

_Somehow..._

He had no idea how it worked, but it did and he felt guilty about not having noticed it earlier; he had always been aware of it in some way, but never actually took the time to fully realise it.

She made him stronger.


End file.
